


exposed

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Coulson and His Ridiculous Faith In Daisy, Episode Related, F/M, Future Fic, Missing Scene, Post 5x11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 18:10:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13909434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: Coulson opens up.(AU where he tells Daisy everything)





	exposed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hamsterfactor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamsterfactor/gifts), [Skyepilot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/gifts).



He lets her catch her breath, a bit taken aback with his own aggressive non-apology. The words spilled from him and yet they almost felt _rehearsed_ , like something he’s known for a long time.

But that was the easy part-

Telling Daisy how much she means to him, how he could never let her go.

(Daisy takes a breath, knowing that of course he’s right, knowing that deep down she never really believed Coulson would leave her behind - even though everyone else she’s ever loved, friend, mother, father, boyfriend, hell, even her therapist, had eventually left her behind, but never Coulson. But she had to try, she had to try to make things right, to make him understand, even if it was in vain. She had to try.)

Coulson waits until he thinks she’s as ready as she’ll ever be, not that it’s ever going to be enough.

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

As he opens his jacket to show his already slashed shirt Coulson wishes Daisy would crack a joke to dissolve the tension, he always likes her jokes, the ones to deflect, the ones that are as much a defense mechanism as the fact that she is a genuinely funny person - she’d make it slightly flirty, she’s say something about inviting her to a beer first. Daisy is funny, but she can also read the mood like no one Coulson has ever met so she doesn’t joke, acknowledging he’s dead serious. Dead serious, ha. Maybe he should be the one cracking jokes - except he doesn’t mean to hurt Daisy more than he already has.

He tells her everything.

He tells her - and maybe he’s excusing himself, or protecting Daisy from more anger in her life - that he intended to tell the team that night, after the diner, he just needed the small victory of a meal with the people he cared about first. He hopes Daisy can tell he’s telling her the truth - for once he doesn’t want to hide from her, for once Daisy’s uncanny and dangerous ability to read him (he once joked she wore her heart on her sleeve, he should have been more careful with what he himself let on) is not something to run away from. And he has done that, run away from her, a lot.

He still wants to run away.

But not from her.

When he finishes - and he watches as Daisy _lets_ him finish, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from interrupting - she is angry of course. But not at him. Her cheeks catch fire and Coulson has seen that look in her eyes before. It’s the look of her soul fuelling her indignation at some injustice. This is unfair, she is thinking. Coulson realizes it’s more than just personal (he’s not stupid, he knows what Daisy feel about the possibility of losing him), she truly thinks the universe is being unfair to Coulson.

That was not the reaction he expected.

She stares at the black stain on his skin again, narrowing her eyes, like it’s a message to decypher. Maybe that’s something Coulson hoped for, that she would somehow magically work it out by just looking at it, that she would fix everything with just one look.

Well, it wouldn’t be the first time.

“Can I?”

He doesn’t know why her touching it would be dangerous to her, but he can’t imagine why she’d want to, either.

(Her fingertips press on the black mark, but she doesn’t feel anything special, other than the shape of it, it feels like flesh, like warmth. Coulson’s chest hair tickle her skin. It’s a strange feeling, like Coulson has become a little more real.)

He wants to pull back, turn away, like he’s showing himself too much. Even to Daisy. Especially to her.

Something more powerful roots him to the spot, to her touch, that becomes something else, more than just curious, the way the tips of Daisy’s fingers play with the hair.

Something renders Coulson unable to stop her.

 

+++

 

“Can I?” Daisy asks.

There’s no risk whatsoever in her touching his chest now. And no reason Coulson can think of, except the one that will become self-evident in the next few moments.

The black mark is gone, and Daisy breathes out, as if she hasn’t believed that things were back to normal until now. Like she was afraid of having been tricked. Afraid she didn’t change things, that she wasn’t able to save Coulson after all. Without the mark she can see the outline of Coulson’s scar better, she touches it without hesitation this time.

It’s different. They are alone again, but this time they’re in her room.

Daisy’s touch feels different from the beginning.

He’s baffled.

“What are you-?”

“Coulson,” she interrupts. “Aren’t you tired?”

“Tired?”

“Of pretending we don’t know what’s going on.”

She _sounds_ tired.

(She _feels_ tired. They are alive. And each time they get closer to losing each other it takes a little bit more energy to pretend.)

Daisy touches his chest, like she did before, this time slipping her hand under his shirt.

Back then, in that cold and dirty room where Coulson confessed he was dying, Daisy did this too; she draws her fingers together as if to make a fist, as if to grab a handful of his chest hair.

(Does he have any idea? Daisy thinks, for the second time, for the first time without guilt or ambiguity, how fucking beautiful Coulson looks like this, exposed, open)

He watches her eyes think; he watches her part her mouth a bit, moments before she presses her body against him, moments before she touches her lips to his.

“Daisy,” he sighs into her mouth. He should feel guilty about letting her kiss him like this, but he can only feel guilty about not feeling guilty about this sweet and loving kiss.

She backs them up against her bed, pushing down on Coulson without breaking the kiss - the kiss, that is becoming deeper and more passionate. And possessive. She only lets him go - briefly, with one hand wrapped around his wrist - when she lies him down on the mattress, straddling his hips.

Sitting on top of him Daisy seems to consider Coulson. Looking down. Studying him.

“You almost died,” she says, and though the voice is soft the tone is accusatory. “You almost left me behind.”

“I’m sorry,” Coulson says, lifting his hand to her face, covering her cheek with his palm. He remembers touching her face before - maybe Daisy is right, maybe they have been running away from this from the beginning.

She turns her face and kisses his hand. The kiss seems to dissipate all their doubts. Coulson decides to do more than just let her kiss him. He kisses back for the first time, his hands running hungry over her body, the way touching her makes him feel alive or realize he’s alive, he didn’t die. Daisy smiles at him, looking like she’s thankful that they are together, in any way or manner, and in any universe.

“I’m sorry,” Coulson repeats, but this time he watches her grin and feels himself catching Daisy’s hopefulness. He arches his whole body to shower her face with kisses, pleads, promises and confessions. “I’ll try not to do that again.”

“It’s okay,” Daisy replies, dropping her head, a brief brush of a kiss. “I’ll save you again.”

( _Did you think there was any universe in which I wouldn’t?_ )


End file.
